


Slow Hands

by sharedwithyou



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:53:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27223816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharedwithyou/pseuds/sharedwithyou
Summary: Mildly inspired by Slow Hands- NiallHoranThe thing that reminds you each time that he’s human; his hands. Warm, working out the knots that you didn’t even know were there. Steady pressure so that you’d feel sore but not too much pain. And the next day, your muscles feel stronger than before.
Relationships: Cole (Dragon Age) & Reader, Cole (Dragon Age)/Reader, Cole (Dragon Age)/You
Comments: 36
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DysfunctionalDevilry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DysfunctionalDevilry/gifts).



> Requested by DysfunctionalDevilry 
> 
> AU Cole is your massage therapist 
> 
> Experience may be enhanced by listening to Slow Hands while reading
> 
> This was supposed to be fluff but it got real smutty Hehehe
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Xoxo Bucky

“Same issue?”

He was always short with you. Clipped tone, few words. You wondered if he was judging you for your mostly sedentary lifestyle. But accounting wasn’t exactly an athletic undertaking. 

He doesn’t seem in a particularly bad mood or anything. The secretary jokes with you that he’s always business, never pleasure. It’s too bad, you agree. He’s good-looking. You think to yourself that it would probably be like dating a robot. An incredibly talented, handsome robot.

The thing that reminds you each time that he’s human; his hands. Warm, working out the knots that you didn’t even know were there. Steady pressure so that you’d feel sore but not too much pain. And the next day, your muscles feel stronger than before. 

“Wrists first or back?”

You hold out your right arm and he nods without another word. You wince as he grabs the scraper; that thing is unforgiving. You’d much rather feel his fingers than the cold plastic shoe-horn. “Can we skip that this time? I was sore for a while week when we used that.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, considering.

“I got an ergonomic mouse and a wrist support,” you add eagerly. Please say yes please say yes.

“Fine.” He agrees tonelessly, and you feel your stomach drop slightly. Is he reluctantly agreeing because you were paying more out-of-pocket? You have crap insurance and he knows.

The cold slick of lotion against your skin interrupts your thoughts. You jerk your head up involuntarily.

“Sorry.” He rubs your arm quickly first to warm up the Jergens.

“It’s okay.” That was the first time he’d apologized before. Not when you were whining about his elbow near your spine, nor when he accidentally made you do an extra 45 seconds of plank because he had to answer the phone and didn’t tell you to rest. Longest minute of your life by the way.

“Less tension. Good.” He comments as you sit there in silence, watching him knead your forearm while trying not to grind your teeth. Massage therapy is not an hour long pamper-fest. It’s long exercises, uncomfortable stretches, and a dull ache that is at least better than the sharp stabbing pre-therapy pain.

“Other arm.” You give him your left arm, relieved that this one is less sore. He rubs the lotion between his hands first this time so it’s nice and warm.

Unfortunately, he uses more pressure as a result. “Uhm why are you working my left harder? It’s stronger than my right.”

He looks at you sternly. “It’s not fully healed. If I go easy it might heal even slower than your right.”

You exhale slowly. “But it hurts a little.” You hope you’re not annoying him.

You swear the corners of his lips twitch. “Good.”

You feel your cheeks flush and look away. It’s normally so easy for you get to know people. Coworkers, people in the supermarket, almost everyone felt easy to talk to.

Cole was different. 

You found him intimidatingly sexy.

Of course, the embarrassing blush quickly disappeared when he said the dreaded words. “Time for wrist exercises. Use the five pound weights.

“Crap.”

Half an hour later, you’re sweaty, tired and discouraged. Your conversation attempts have been met with monosyllabic answers. Even after you stopped asking yes and no questions. Favorite food was reduced to one word- Chinese. And the follow up why do you like it- rice.

At least now you could lay on your stomach and try to nap. No such luck though; Cole is applying more force than usual. You wince as he rolls out an extra tender knot. “Uhm-“

“Yes, it should ache.”

“Damn.” You plop your head into the face-hole thingy dejectedly.

He pauses. You’re weirded out; he’s never stopped before. Not even when you went “ow ow ow,” that time. “What’s your name?”

Are you serious?! “You don’t know?! I’ve been here like six times!”

“Eight.” He corrects you, before resuming the increasingly uncomfortable massage. 

You hold in a bigass sigh. “I’m (y/n).”

“Oh. (Y/n).” Your irritation fades when you hear him say your name. His voice sounds soothing instead of authoritative. You’re glad your face is hidden so he can’t see your giddy smile. 

Then he digs into your lumbar and your glee turns into determination not to wail loudly. 

Massage therapy sucks.

If anyone wants to know the definition of juxtaposition, it’s this: how you feel about the hour being up.

You won’t get to see the blonde hottie for a week. You also won’t have to have your body mangled by said blonde hottie. See? Juxtaposition.

You’re also tired of associating Cole with slow torture. You are not by any means a masochist. Eight weeks is way too long of a shy phase. You’re (y/n), Damnit! You got this!

“Hey, Cole. Do you have any patients after this?”

He shakes his head. So, not even a verbal response. Whatever, you’re doing this!

“Maybe we could grab a bite...” you try to sound as casual as possible.

“No.” 

Welp. That was that. You tried not to focus on how curt and instant his refusal was. 

“Cool. See you next week.” You are relieved that you don’t stutter.

“Bye.” He turns and starts putting towels into the laundry bin.

You scramble off the massage table and rush out the building without so much as a wave to the secretary.

You feel so stupid.

As much as you want to run home and yell curses into your pillow, you’re incredibly hungry. You suppose you should be thankful it didn’t gurgle during the massage. Though you’d made more than enough of a fool of yourself at the end there. 

The cute barista remembers your usual order and preempts you. “Nonfat mocha with a sesame bagel?”

“Better make it a full fat one.” You reply with a chuckle.

“Coming right up.” He doesn’t make a smartass comment about you possibly having a bad day, and you’re grateful for it.

“Five fifty.”

“Oh you forgot to add the bagel.”

“It’s on the house,” he winks, and you try hard not to blush. 

You dig around your pockets before realizing with a sinking feeling that you’d left your purse by the massage table.

“I’m so sorry-“

He cuts you off. “Trying to take advantage of me?” You’re so mortified you take it seriously. “No!”

“Relax, (y/n). I’m teasing.” He hands you the drink with another wink. “I’ve got more than enough tips today to cover it.”

You look at him bug-eyed. “I can’t let you do that!”

“It’s fine-“

“It’s on me.”

You feel your face turn into a tomato as you turn to see Cole put some money on the counter. “Keep the change.”

“You got it,” the barista returns with an easy smile. You grab the drink and bagel quickly. “Uh, thanks.”

Cole doesn’t say you’re welcome or anything. He just looks at you seriously. “You forgot your purse.”

“Oh, right.” You stammer. “I’ll go get it-“

“The office is closed.”

You sigh deeply. Just your luck.

“Here.”

You stare at his outstretched arm, both because it is incredibly muscular and because your purse looks very out of place on it. “Wow. Thank you!” You grab it and try not to beam.

Once again, he doesn’t say no problem or anything. 

Still, the elation of seeing your dream guy save your life (sort of) makes you blurt out, “Since you’re here, want to join me?”

“No.” He turns abruptly and leaves. 

You hear a throat clearing sound and turn back to see the barista trying not to laugh.You’re disappointed, but his trying-to-be-serious face makes you giggle. “Yikes, right?”

He wiggles his eyebrow but doesn’t agree or disagree.

“Well, I’ll leave you in shame now.” You declare. You were feeling more like your outgoing self again. 

“Eh, guy doesn’t know how lucky he is.” The barista’s eyes crinkle and you giggle some more. 

“Not worth the full fat, huh?”

“Definitely not.”

Another week passes, and it’s massage therapy day again. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think of Cole at all, but at least you weren’t as crestfallen as before.

You make smalltalk with the receptionist, mentally preparing for a completely nonchalant session. You were not going to let any awkwardness happen this time.

In walks Cole with his normal messy locks slicked back. “(Y/n).” He says your name in that same soothing manner.

Crap in a hand-basket.

You decided to work on your back first this time, to avoid having to look at his delicious new look. Hopefully the aching in your back would help distract you.

But it’s different this time. Instead of digging at the knots, he’s pressing against them lightly. His hands are more than warm, and when he uses his knuckles it feels like a hot stone massage instead of information extraction from a spy. It’s so relaxing you’d fall asleep if you weren’t absolutely focused on savoring every moment.

Perhaps you savored it a little too much. Because you let out a teeny tiny little moan. Of his name.

“Mmm, Cole.”

He freezes and you consider bolting out and never ever returning to what is now the scene of a crime.

“(Y/n).” His voice sounds strangled and you are infinitely grateful he can’t see your eggplant face.

“Yes?” You decide to pretend like nothing happened. Do the Nixon, deny, deny!

“I can’t date my patients.”

“Uh...” you swear there’s little chickens circling your head making that tweeting sound like in the cartoons because you are dumbstruck.

“That’s why I said no last week.”

“Oh...” You don’tknow what to say, but it doesn’t matter because you seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.

“I’m sorry.”

You sit up immediately. You need to see his face. Was he letting you down easy? Or was he genuinely disappointed?

You search his face, and immediately lie down and hide your face again.

“(Y/n).” His voice confirms what you’d thought you saw in his face. Longing.

“Cole.” You have no other words, so you whisper his name, glad the receptionist is in another room.

“I can refer you to another massage therapist.” He keeps his voice low as well, which comes across very seductively.

“But I want you.”

His eyebrows shoot up as you grin crazily still face-down.

“As your massage therapist or-“

The rest of the words get stuck in his throat when you flip onto your back and gaze at him with hooded eyes.

You watch each other for a bit until he turns away and mumbles. “I’ll work on your wrists then.”

You sit up obediently and he puts some more lotion on his hands.

“You have the warmest hands,” you say. Well it comes out more like a purr.

“Oh?” The corners of his mouth twitch slightly like last week and you feel what seems like a swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

“And they’re soft. From the lotion.”

“It smells good.” Literally the first time he’sengaged in conversation without being dragged in forcefully.

“Hmm. I wonder if it tastes good too,” you can’t help yourself.

“I don’t think-“ He gasps as you pull his hand to your lips and take a tentative lick.

“You’re right. Tastes gross.”

He stares at you a moment, before lifting your arm to his mouth and gently pressing his lips against it. Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull.

He licks his lips and you feel a roaring in your ears. The sexual tension is killing you.

Then he makes a face. “Yuck.”

You laugh almost hysterically. You expect him to look at you weirdly, but he tilts his head at you inquisitively instead. “What’s so funny?”

Now how are you supposed to explain that you’re incredibly turned on and nervous and ecstatic?! So you bluff. “I can’t believe you didn’t know my name until last week.”

He coughs and avoids eye contact. When he speaks, it’s a mumble. “I did know. I was trying to make conversation. I’m not good at it.”

You let out a chortle that you hope he won’t hold against you. “It’s ok. I am.”

He looks unsure, so you continue to prove your point. “You’re good at other things. Like using your incredible magic fingers.”

A full grin crosses his face and you almost pass out. “You know what the secret is?”

“What?” You’re mesmerized as he trails his fingers up and down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He leans in so close his lips touch your ear. “Go slow.”

You turn excitedly to plant a kiss on his lips, but he backs away and shakes his head. 

You pout; feeling rejected while horny was almost as bad as last week! 

“I said slow.” The strictness is back in his voice, but there is a devilish twinkle in his eyes. 

He goes back to the arm massage, but once again instead of the usual pressure he goes easy. 

You don’t keep eye contact because you’ll try to kiss him again if you do. You bite your lip so you won’t moan again. Even though this isn’t nearly as sexual as a back massage, you’re already riled up.

He notices and presses down hard on a knot.

“Ouch!”

You hear a tiny chuff. Is he...laughing?

You look up at him but his face is expressionless save for mischievous eyes.

“Other arm.”

You give him your left arm and he continues with that perfect amount of force. You bite down on the inside of your cheek so he won’t see this time.

Since he didn’t get a reaction this time, Cole decides to take it a step further. He lifts your arm and slips your thumb into his mouth and sucks on it softly, enjoying the catch in your breath.

In retaliation, you slip your free hand under his shirt to feel his abs.

He inhales quickly at how cold your fingers are.

“Sorry. I don’t have warm hands.” You remark, not sounding sorry at all.

He doesn’t respond, but grazes your thumb with his teeth gently. Reflexively you scratch his stomach with your nails. 

He jumps and drops your arm, thumb and all.

You stare at him, wondering if you ruined the moment. Which would be so vanilla of him.

In the blink of an eye he grabs your wrists with his, before pulling them behind you and holding them both with his left. 

“Hey, unfair!”

He bites his lip and you understand why he reacted the way he did when you did it earlier. It made you want him even more. Which you didn’t think was possible.

“You get to talk. I get to use my hands.”

You wriggle a little, but both of you know you had no problem being in this position.

“I know you’ve been waiting for this.”

His voice sounds husky as he rests his hand on your knee. You feel them turn into jelly. 

He breathes deeply. “Going slow now...might even be hard for me.”

You mewl as he runs his fingers one by one slowly up your inner thigh-

“Cole? (Y/n)?” The receptionist calls from the other room.

You squawk and Cole stands up quickly.

“Hmm?” Cole doesn’t use actual words in case his tone of voice is incriminating.

“I have to leave early today. Make sure (y/n) doesn’t forget her purse.” She pops her head in and gives you a friendly wink.

“I won’t!” You wink back, glad that you had an excuse to look embarrassed now.

“Hey, if you’re about done I can give you a ride to the bus stop. I know it’s a bit of a walk.”

“I-“

“She’s done.” Cole asserted before you could finish constructing a response. 

“Alright, get your purse and we can go.” The receptionist motioned at you.

“Ok...”

“We’ll continue our session next week.” Cole said with a completely blank face. He waited for her to turn before giving you the smallest of smirks.

Well fuck.

“Uh... see you next week, Cole.”

“Bye.”

And he waved his hand slowly to make sure you’d think about him every night until you saw him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MUAHAHA
> 
> BLUEBALLS LOVELIES
> 
> Typical mindfuck by Bucky Bc I’m not ready to do a lemon yet. I put mature to be mean. Also in case ppl are easily scandalized 
> 
> Leave me a comment if you liked!!
> 
> @DysfunctionalDevilry would you like to do a sequel lemon for me Bc I’m not confident enough for a lemon yet but I think u might be 
> 
> This was based on my massage therapist experience. The non-sexy parts I mean. So most of it is super real to me. The non fun parts unfortunately. Shout out of you’ve been seriously injured and had to do physical therapy. Y’all rock.  
> Shoutout to massage and physical therapists also. Y’all are rad.
> 
> Xoxo Bucky


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grabbing a bite to eat gets interesting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok first of all everyone go read the continuation of this fic it’s called - “Really Drag it Out” by DysfunctionalDevilry 
> 
> This is a continuation of hers because I wanted MORE COLE. Also hers ended as a cliffhanger!!!!! No promises about how mine will end tho ;)
> 
> Enjoy lovelies!
> 
> Xoxo Bucky

“So are you fired?”

He stares at you wordlessly, as you munch on the free bread the waitress put on the table.

Hey, you deserved carbs. After that uh, last workout.

“I mean technically I wasn’t your patient anymore, so you shouldn’t lose your license right?”

He continues sitting in silence.

“Cole?”

His lips twitch. “Uncertain. Bashful. Worried.”

You kick him lightly under the table. “Don’t make fun of me.”

He traps your foot between his ankles. “I like it when you say my name. Any way. Every way.”

You choke on your bread and hack for a few seconds while his lips twitch again.

“You never answered me.” You bluster on.

He shakes his head. “It’s my own business. Who’s going to fire me?”

“B-but you said you can’t date patients.”

“Yes.” 

You’d be lying if you said his short responses weren’t frustrating. But he was sliding both feet up and down your calf his signature way, slowly, so it was very very hard to get annoyed.

“Then why did you refer me away?”

He doesn’t answer as the waitress drops off your food.

“Uhh, Cole?!”

He picks up a French fry and slips it between your lips.

You narrow your eyes and try to chomp his fingers but he moves his hand away easily.

“Stop ignoring me.” You grumble with your mouth full.

“No.”

You feel a prickling fear that he was going to be one of those hit it and quit it guys. You know, where the once the fire is out, they’re distant or even purposely rude so you’ll leave them alone.

“I like your voice when you whine.”

“Hey! Just because-“ He interrupts you by slipping another fry in your mouth. This time he leaves his thumb on your lower lip.

“Go on. Bite me.”

You feel your cheeks grow super hot. Over compensating, you bite down hard.

He hisses softly and drops both feet back to the ground, a lovely blush creeping onto his face as well.

“You asked for it,” you mumble through fry crumbs.

“Careful. You don’t want to hurt the magic fingers.” 

“I’m sure the other patients would hate that.” Since he wasn’t answering the referral question, you decide to attack from another angle. “Especially the women.”

“(Y/n).” He has the bossy tone again, andit’s disorienting. You were used to him doling out instructions with it. First, about stretches and exercises. And an hour ago, about a much more pleasurable topic. But in the context of a dimly-lit restaurant, it’s very confusing.

“Cole.” You do your best to sound authoritative as well.

“Don’t be jealous.”

You open your mouth to object, so he stuffs three fries in. They’re crispy on the outside, mealy in the inside, and yet so unsatisfying. “You’re my only female client.”

“Huh?” Let’s pretend your unintelligible response was because of the food in your mouth.

“I only accept male patients.”

You gulp down the fries and gape at him quietly.

“But when you came in 9 weeks ago...I couldn’t say no.”

You grab your glass of water, hoping it will help you stop sweating. You love his voice, but each word was stoking the fire within. Again.

Maybe this is why he’s usually quiet. Speaking comes across too intensely from him.

“You look uncomfortable.”

Well yeah, it’s not even dessert and I want to dip you in hot fudge and lick it off!! But you probably shouldn’t say that. Especially if the waitress might be nearby. “Uh, my jeans-“

“How’s the food?” As if on cue, the waitress stops by with a bottle of ketchup.

Cole licks the salty residue off his slender finger slowly. “Delicious.”

You immediately down half a glass. “Uhm could I get another ice water.”

“Sure hon.” She walks off and you look down at your plate. The club sandwich smells delicious but you have no appetite. For food.

“You didn’t get to clean up earlier.” Cole remarks in understanding.

“Well duh!” You had yanked your pants up and sprinted out the door like Speedy González. In fact you wouldn’t have even come to this restaurant if Cole hadn’t chased you down to give you your purse. Yes you’d forgotten it again. Totally understandable this time.

“Must be sticky.” He states it like a pure fact, but you can’t help biting your lip. A small smirk crosses his face. Damn him.

“I bet you are too.” His eyes widen and it’s your turn to smirk. Taking initiative, you slip off a shoe and drag your feet up from his ankle to his knee.

He stiffens and looks over his shoulder, but of course nobody is paying attention. “We just got caught!” He whisper-shouts.

“Yeah but you didn’t lose your job.” You whisper back, extending your leg so your foot is in his lap.

“Yeah because the receptionist is my cousin. Sarah.”

You giggle under your breath. “Going to be an awkward Thanksgiving.”

“You have no idea.” He looks severe, until you start doing ankle rolls right in between his legs.

“(Y/n)!” He keeps his voice low, but you can hear the desire fighting the discomfort. Ahh, juxtaposition.

“I’ll stop when you tell me why you referred me away.”

“Because-“ His voice hitches when your second foot starting creeping up his other leg.

“Because what?”

“I-“

“Sorry I took so long. Here’s your water!” The waitress sets down the glass. “Oh no, was there a problem with the food?”

“Not hungry I guess,” you reply innocently.

“I’ll get you some boxes then. Any interest in dessert?”

“Yes! No!” You and Cole answer at the exact same time.

“I’ll box these up while you decide.” She responds with a grin.

“You don’t like sweets?” You tease him victoriously.

“I figured you’d want to get out of those sticky pants as soon as possible.”

Your playful banter is cut short as he slips his hands under the table and starts playing with your toes. Your breath catches in your throat.

“What’s the matter? Ticklish?”

You yelp as he presses down on what turns out to be a very sensitive part of your foot. You had no idea your feet could feel that way.

“If you were a patient I’d apply more pressure, but...” He massages the pads of your feet gently, licking his lips while he watches you try not to squirm. “I can’t be a therapist with you.”

“Cole-“ the rest of the sentence floats out of your head as he squeezes both of your ankles with a wink.

“It’s hard to push you to be stronger.” He takes a deep breath when you stroke him with your toes.

“Why?” You don’t trust yourself to articulate the whole thought.

“I just want to make you feel good.” He practically moans the words as you start rubbing your feet against him faster.

“Like I make you feel?” You ask as you feel him pulsing at your feet and your panties start sticking to you again. Uh oh.

“Mmm.” He cant even say yes as he closes his eyes and grips the edge of the table tightly.

“Cole.” You want to keep saying his name over and over, hoping that he won’t ever get sick of it.

“Here you go!”

You freeze and Cole pops his eyes open as the waitress puts your boxed leftovers on the table, along with the check.

“I figured you guys wouldn’t be hungry enough for dessert.” Oh bless her, she should get the Nobel peace prize for waitressing. 

“Thank you.” You murmur as Cole slaps what looks like way too many bills on the table and stands up amazingly fast.

“Have a good night!” She calls cheerfully as he practically drags you out of the restaurant.

“So-“ you are once again interrupted and you’re totally fine with it. Because it’s Cole’s lips on yours. He’s so much yummier than fries.

“I meant what I said.” You shiver from the brisk air and his words. He puts his arms around you and squeezes you tightly. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Yeah?” Is the best response you can come up with as he presses against you and you feel the warmth coursing inside.

“Yeah.” You’ve forgotten how to walk, but it’s alright. He slowly edges you across the street back to the office, not letting go of you for a moment.

“Why are we back here?” As in why are we returning to the scene of crime?

“I want to make you feel good.” He repeats as he pushes you against the door, reaching behind your waist to unlock the door. 

“Right.” He opens the door and propels the both of you inside, keeping his arm around you so you don’t fall.

“Now.” He slams the door shut and shoves you against it.

You will your lips to finally move, and manage to form a few words. “What happened to going slow?”

He exhales achingly, and you lose yourself in his eyes.

“Let’s do it your way this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ASGFSAGLKURAGJLJFDAHKL
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING
> 
> @ the lovely devil (my new nickname for you) if you would like to do a “fast Cole” type sequel I would be incredibly grateful. If not I’m totally content to re-read “really drag it out” til I die
> 
> I will try to keep up with writing after my surgery tomorrow!!! Who knows maybe the pain meds will give me some really crazy awesome ideas!!
> 
> Hang in there my lovelies!!
> 
> Xoxo Bucky

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Really Drag It Out](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27232411) by [DysfunctionalDevilry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DysfunctionalDevilry/pseuds/DysfunctionalDevilry)




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